


when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories

by Adarian



Series: History of Middle Earth AUs and Explorations [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Romance, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: Legolas is mortally wounded during the escape from Khazad-dûm and Gimli takes up his bow to defend him. After being healed in Lothlorien, he seeks out the dwarf to thank him. Their conversation allows them both to examine their brush with death.





	when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another episode of HOME AUs! In this edition, we have an original version of Moria in which our poor Legolas gets shot through the shoulder and Gimli, the beautiful bad ass he is, takes up his bow and just is the archer for awhile. Iconic. It also fits well into the original reason why Legolas leaves the Fellowship as well he can't really shoot a bow right now and why the two start chilling in Lothlorien and become BFFs. 
> 
> Not that super relevant title is from the amazing Catherynne Valente's "Deathless" because after using that word in this story I fell into a rabbit hole of quotes from that book because hot dang is that thing a masterpiece.

Legolas had not gone two thousand years without injury. He had known pain and was not afraid to face it. But when the arrow pierced through him, he could not help but scream. It sliced through his shoulder, breaking through bone and ligament, tearing muscle and flesh. He fell to his knees, dropping his bow on the stone. He felt as if he might be sick, the pain sending him into shock.

Within a moment, Gimli barked out, "Boromir, the elf is down. Help him!" 

Gimli knelt down to grab Legolas' bow and drew it back, picking off an orc in the distance. Boromir helped Legolas up and the elf hung onto him with his uninjured arm. Gimli covered their rear, firing arrows with surprising skill. 

Legolas woke in the forest, realizing he had fainted from blood loss. Estel had clearly set the bone, bandaged him and stuffed herbs into the wound itself. Legolas tried to stand but was too weak. He glanced over and saw the dwarf sitting beside him, smoking his pipe as he looked into the distance. Gimli looked over and at seeing he was awake, patted his uninjured shoulder gently.

"Go rest, lad," Gimli said. "All those awake are grieving and there is nothing that can be said or done to comfort. We will move out soon so sleep while you can." 

Legolas asked, "Are we safe?"

"For now, yes. Gandalf bought us time with his life. We should honour it by using it well. For you, that means taking the time to heal." 

Legolas wanted to argue but he was feverish and his body was wracked with pain. There was little he could do now that would not make him a burden. Gimli tucked his blanket around him and Legolas drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

He would have vague memories of their trip to Lothlorien. He was growing dangerously ill and it was the sight of him that allowed the Fellowship so easily inside of the realm. Legolas' memories only began truly clearly at waking in the healer's room, the fever now broken. He was alone, but the smell of pipeweed suggested that someone had been by his bedside. 

He rose slowly, testing the tight sling keeping his shoulder in place. It was shockingly better and he felt well, if not a little slow and sleepy. It was surreal, remembering the little he could from Moria and being in this present moment. It seemed like a dream, a terrible dream but the evidence of it remained. 

The healer returned but Legolas spoke only a little to him. Those of this realm were his people, but among them even a prince of Mirkwood was not noteworthy. Not that he needed to be celebrated or admired. He simply wanted to be understood and accepted and it was clear to him that these kin of his were not who he needed to speak to.  
Legolas wandered until he found Gimli sitting on a riverbed. The dwarf had stripped down into his traveling clothes and was washing his worn and bloody feet. It felt like sacrilege in a place such as this, but Legolas sat beside him and cast off his boots as well. He made sure to keep his much cleaner feet upriver from Gimli's. 

The dwarf said, "You do not need to entertain me. Go spend time with your people. I am not so weak that I cannot sit alone with my grief."

"I wanted to thank you," Legolas said quietly. "You saved my life."

Gimli shrugged. "It was not a difficult thing." 

Legolas was not sure how to explain how deep his gratitude was. Instead, he asked, "How does a dwarf come to learn the bow?" 

"How does a dwarf know how to use an axe?" Gimli said. "I came of age just after the Battle of the Five Armies, lad. I was a child in exile, waiting for war. I learned every weapon I could. When the call came to take our homeland, I wanted to be ready. Alas, my father thought I was too young. He was probably right."

"He came with you to the Council, did he not?" Legolas asked. "He let you go?"

Gimli chuckled. "Let is not the word I would use. He was afraid, even though I am the age he was when he joined the Company. A son is always a son, I think, no matter how old and ugly they become."

Legolas grimaced as he thought, _Perhaps among dwarves._

Gimli noticed his pained expression. "How is your shoulder?"

"It aches," Legolas admitted, "but it is much better. It was a grave wound but I am told that I will draw a bow again in time. Perhaps not fast enough to rejoin the Fellowship, but I can still use a sword. Or perhaps I will learn the axe and you will become the archer of the party."

Gimli laughed. "Your shoulders are strong, but not that strong. Try the sword. It is a much more elegant thing, it would suit you better."

"Elves are not all delicate by nature," Legolas reminded. "I am not perhaps as graceful as many of my kin."

"You have the fingers of a gemcutter," Gimli replied. "Among my kin, you would be considered exceptionally delicate."

"I do not know if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment."

Gimli shrugged again, his joviality fading. 

Legolas asked, "How do you fare, friend?"

The dwarf gave no surprise at the term of endearment, though Legolas was shocked that he had said it. 

Gimli replied quietly, "I feel old. I feel as if my bones creak under the weight of it all. I feel withered. I do not know how to tell my father, but I must. It will break him, more than it has already broken me. Then to lose Gandalf...I do not know how much more of me there is to give, Legolas. My only comfort is that you have survived. I thought we were soon to be seven and that grief would kill whatever hope we had left."

"It is the closest I have ever been to death," Legolas confessed. "To live all your days knowing that it will one day find you...to live such a life is beyond my understanding. It changes so much and I am ashamed to have only learned the lesson now."

"Most of your kind never do," Gimli replied, more gently than Legolas expected. "When you live forever, a life of a hundred years seems like a flash and not the eternity that it is. I look at this place and I do not see the legacy of a dozen forefathers. I see the work of those who are still living and will always live. It is eerie to be in such a deathless place, even if it is so beautiful."

Legolas agreed, "Yes, it is. In Mirkwood, seasons change. Creatures are born, live full lives, and pass. I have befriended birds and known the first of their kin to come to the forest. I have watched trees grow from saplings into the mightiest oaks you have ever seen. I have known of mortality but only as something outside of myself. Here it is removed all together. It feels...ethereal."

Gimli nodded. "Aye, that is the right word I think."

Gimli was quiet and Legolas could feel the weight of his grief. He put his hand on his, linking their fingers together. 

Legolas murmured, "For what it is worth, I am sorry for your loss."

Gimli nodded again, tears in his eyes. "Thank you."

They sat for a long time, speaking little, only forced from the water when their skin wrinkled and the sun hung low. When they returned to their party, something had changed between them and all who were in their presence saw it. There was not a word to describe it but all had a sense that it was something special. It was the beginning of something that felt a lot like faith.


End file.
